


Boiled Egg and Soldiers

by wendymr



Category: Foyle's War
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Sam is always hungry, Wartime rations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7525342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"We’ve been up all night thanks to the bloody Germans. What I wouldn’t give for a boiled egg and soldiers right now!”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boiled Egg and Soldiers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perclexed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perclexed/gifts).



> A short _Foyle's War_ piece, 500 words exactly, in honour of Perclexed's birthday. Hope it was a good one!
> 
> * * *

The air–raid caught them unawares, and they’ve had to spend an uncomfortable, cold night in the station cellar. They emerge into the pale dawn light after the all–clear, relieved that the only fiery glow is miles away. No damage to Hastings or its inhabitants tonight.

Sam’s stomach rumbles. Milner grins, quickly hiding it as Mr Foyle joins them.

“Not hungry, surely, Sam?” Unlike Milner, Mr Foyle doesn’t bother hiding his amusement. 

Sam flushes, but refuses to back down. “Of course I am, sir! We’ve been up all night thanks to the bloody Germans. What I wouldn’t give for a boiled egg and soldiers right now!”

“And tea. With sugar.” Milner sighs. Yes, tea. Proper tea leaves that haven’t been used and left to dry half a dozen times. And real milk. She closes her eyes, picturing the luxury.

“No time for that.” Mr Foyle’s tone is brisk. “I need to interview the land agent at Digby Manor this morning. Sam, bring the car around to the house in half an hour, and collect Milner on the way.” With that, he tips his hat and walks off.

Milner’s face falls, and Sam knows she looks just as put out. “That’s barely enough time to wash and change!” 

Milner takes a deep breath. “You heard Mr Foyle. We’d better get going.”

It’s a rush to dress and do her hair and then rush out to the car. There isn’t even time to eat a piece of bread and scrape, because she has to drive to Milner’s house before pulling up outside Mr Foyle’s home exactly thirty minutes later. Mr Foyle opens the door but, instead of coming outside, he stands back and beckons them in.

“I thought you were in a hurry, sir,” Sam says, put out. If he’s not ready, then the least he could have done was given her time to have her breakfast.

“I thought you were the one in a hurry, Sam,” Mr Foyle says as he leads the way into his kitchen. 

The table’s set for three. There’s toast on the table, and even a small amount of butter. The kettle’s boiling on the stove, next to fresh tea–leaves. And – Sam feels like dropping to her knees and kissing them – there are eggs in egg–cups next to each plate. He must have used his entire week’s ration.

“Sir! You shouldn’t have.” Milner manages to sound both appreciative and chiding, but Sam can’t be that self–effacing.

“You are _quite_ my favourite Detective Chief Superintendent, sir!” she announces as she sits, gazing longingly at her egg.

“Very glad to hear it, Sam,” Mr Foyle says as he makes the tea. “Perhaps you’ll remember that next time I tell you to stay put.”

“But I always do as you tell me, sir!” she protests around a mouthful of toast.

Milner smothers a laugh. Mr Foyle, finding the wall fascinating, raises one eyebrow. Sam ignores them. There’s egg for breakfast, and she’s going to savour it.


End file.
